


Executables

by Kindredness



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, Alternate Universe - Future, Code monkey Rhys, Computer Programming, Corporate Espionage, Ensemble Cast, Gentrification politics, Gun Violence, Heists, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, San Francisco, Slow Burn, Unreasonable amounts of coffee, Wacky hacky, pug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 20:59:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5680576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kindredness/pseuds/Kindredness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>San Francisco, 2120. New job, new leather boots. Rhys thought he'd planned for everything, but dealing with a malevolent AI of your dead CEO wasn't something he could find in a manual...</p>
<p>Gentrification politics, heists, and sexy shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Murder of Handsome Jack

There were many career-driven, sleep-shunning entrepreneurs in San Francisco, but the sun was the first to rise that morning. Indifferent to the secrets of the night before, it pressed into its morning duties as usual. Rays of light crept across the peninsula as slowly the city shuddered to life: a light blue sky flushed with anticipation, dense fog brushed against the cold steel of skyscrapers, thousands of alarm clocks trembled as they collided with heavy palms. Soon an interspersed symphony of revving machinery would drown out the gentle whisper of the sea. Soon cold fingers would reach for the warmth of a day’s first cup of coffee.

Yes, the fortunate were shaking off dust and dreams, but the sun did not grace every mind with an awakening. For some, morning was just the postscript of another terrible night. But for others, morning was the moment in which everything would change…

The hacker, eyes intent on a screen before him. Security camera feeds. Zeroes and ones. If he was the type to smile, he would. Hands at the ready to manipulate information at a moment’s notice.

The soldier, repaying a debt. Gun on his arm, and guns beneath his sleeves. The next hour was one he’d anticipated and dreaded, in equal measure, but as usual, he approached his mission sardonically.

The businesswoman, her arms crossed. Red hair met tailored suit jacket. She had perfected her scowl, to the constant dismay of her employees, though now its only victim was the holographic watch flickering above her wrist.

…and the asshole, sprawled lazily in what may have been the largest levitating swiveling chair known to mankind. Hair tousled roughly, legs carelessly extended to leave traces of dirt on the wooden desk before him. Whether his eyes were tinged red due to the constant artificial light exposure or to copious amounts of caffeine, nobody could quite be sure. He cracked his knuckles and his neck, allowed himself a brief but emphatic yawn, and continued typing on the projected keyboard before him.

The asshole’s name was Jack. Despite (or perhaps, due to) his assholish nature, he was the chief executive officer of a tech company. His penthouse office contained the nicest desk in the entire building, and wide bay windows fitted one wall, displaying a beautiful view of the rising sun. His penthouse office was also rife with empty coffee mugs, many still unwashed. Fresh coffee battled with nice cologne for the dominant odor of the room. One large screen, nearly as big as Jack himself, towered on the desk, where it displayed countless lines of code. Projectors embedded in the ceiling added overlays to the image, allowing the all-powerful CEO to process in three dimensions. In the absence of actual lighting fixtures, sunlight played with the intense computer glow on Jack’s face.

An error message flickered in red, and Jack lowered an irritable eyebrow. He was impatient for this program to work, not because he had anything particular to go home to, but because this _damn_ parsing bug should have been fixed hours ago. At this point he was beginning to suspect a compatibility issue, because if he couldn’t fix a simple Java program in one night and six shots of espresso, the problem was somewhere else and he was wasting his time and precious talent.

He scrolled the projection back to the top and typed a comment, fingers flickering only briefly:

 

// memory access failure  
// leave unchanged for now  
// need to find compatibility issue        
// which DUMBASS fucked over the repository this time?  
// for fuck’s sake  
// -hj

 

Jack sighed and resigned himself to sorting through inelegant code from his asswipe employees. He didn’t hear muffled footsteps approach the largest door at Hyperion HQ. The programming mistakes that needed correcting were far too engrossing.

By the time he saw them enter, it was too late.

 _What the fuck - at this time of day? Aren’t other people busy, you know, sleeping?_ Jack started as the door’s motion-sensing security system flashed indignantly, emitting a shrew-like high-pitched beeping. But when Jack recognized the two intruders, the irritation met with a moment of panic- that solidified into cold, hard anger. His eyebrows narrowed.

“ _Li_ lith!” Jack enunciated, voice dripping with sarcastic pleasure, stretching the first syllable just a tad longer than necessary. “Always a pleasure to see you, Ms. Hawk.” He eyed the large, military-like figure to the businesswoman’s left. “And who’s this fella? Your new squeeze? I can see why you like him, though I don’t go for the muscular guys myself-”

“Cut the crap, Jack.” Lilith placed her hands on her hips and gave him a look that could burn steel. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

Jack returned her look, unfazed. “And I see you’re still a heinous bitch.”

The man standing next to Lilith coughed, and Jack noticed a gun in his hand. Shotgun.  This was going to go down one of two ways, and either way meant bodybags and bloodstains in his carpet--which he _just_ got replaced, thank you very much.  He tried not to think about who would be in the bodybag if it wasn’t Lilith or her boytoy, and instead put on his best venomous smile.  “Anyway.  What brings you two to Hyperion?”

“I think we both know, Jack.”  She circled around to his side of the desk, fingertips trailing along the polished mahogany.  Jack swallowed, fighting the adrenaline rising in his veins and maintaining his reclined position.

The soldier walked carefully toward the opposite side, ever vigilant. Not even his eyes betrayed his hesitance. In Lilith’s eyes, however, burned an intense kind of fire.

“I’m not as easy as those Dahl execs, pumpkin.”  Jack’s fingers drummed against his armrest.  Just a step to the left, and her beefcake mercenary would be in perfect position to fall to his death via trapdoor… but it was like he _knew_ , the way he sidestepped around it.  When Jack found out who the leak was…  He grit his teeth, imagining a blue face and bulging eyes.

“I wouldn’t expect you to be.” She was two paces away from him now.  “Saving the future of technology as we know it…  No one would expect it to be _easy_.”

Jack snorted.  “Saving?  I knew you had some backwards ideas over there at Vault, but cupcake, this one’s gotta be my favorite.” And now, she was almost at his chair. “You think offing _me_ saves _anyone_ ?  I am the _hero_ of this industry.”

“Hero?”  A mirthless laugh.  “What sort of hero wipes out whole communities so that his employees can live in ‘cute’ neighborhoods that have ‘character’?  And none of that ‘they moved out on their own’ bullcrap.  Anyone who’s not a rich asshole eventually has to move when their rent gets higher every day.”

“Homeperion is revolutionary.  You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first.”  He clicked his tongue. It continually angered him, how even fellow technology executives could still be dumb enough to mistrust the winds of progress. “Green isn’t a good color on you, Lilith.”

“Really?  Well I think red will look _excellent_ on you.”  The continued beeping of the security system was suddenly drowned by a technological whine to Jack’s left--almost definitely the sound of elemental capabilities being primed.  Jack’s eyes flicked to the soldier, just for a heartbeat, but that’s all it took for Lilith to point her gun toward his temple.

Even in the hazy purple shadows of the office at dawn, the shape of the barrel was unmistakable. This would not be Jack’s first time peering into the unfriendly end of a gun. Adrenaline pumped him with an indistinguishable fury: a tiger caught in its final cage.

“So that’s how you wanna play, kitten,” he growled.  He kept a pistol strapped to his thigh, and another tucked under his desk, and now both were aimed at his adversaries.

The soldier looked nervous, but Lilith merely laughed. “Do you know how fast these new bullets are, Jack?  Your brain will be soup before it can process the sound of a shot.”

His upper lip twitched involuntarily, a crack at last in the confident facade he had worked so hard to perfect.  “Guess I better shoot first, then.” He was _not_ going to go out like this, hunted in his own office --his own _home_ , with how often he worked this late. “Mutually assured destruction and all that.”

“Then shoot.” The soldier spoke for the first time. His deep voice conveyed the intended meaning: _checkmate_.

Jack’s fingers tensed against the triggers, but he knew pulling either, pulling both, it wouldn’t matter.  This wasn’t a situation he could shoot his way out of.  He stomped his foot, and perhaps it was childish, but perhaps he didn’t care.  “You guys are leeches!  Bandits!  I am the GODDAMN HERO, and you cannot _win_!”  Lilith’s expression was cold as a blade and twice as sharp.

“Goodbye, Jack.”  She did not hesitate.

There was a flash of light, and the distinguishable thump of a body hitting the floor.

Handsome, indeed.

A few minutes later, two figures emerged from the penthouse office of Hyperion HQ, notably much more relaxed than they had entered it. “Nice work, Roland. “ said the shorter, appreciatively. She then turned upward, eyeing a barely visible camera lens in the ceiling. “But Zer0, you really could have stopped that beeping door sooner.  Nearly made me miss.”

“I am never doing mercenary work with you again,” Roland shook his head.

It was several hours later when four frantic executives and one strangely giddy scientist burst through the room and saw the blood long-dried on the carpet. One of them fainted. Every silly rumor of the CEO’s immortality was quashed... along with most of the man’s brains.

“There’s no way--”  “What do we…?”  “Without Jack…”  The scientist raised a hand, silencing their pathetic whimpers.

“No, no, do not worry, friends.  This is not the end.  This is only the beginning.”

  
This was not the last that Hyperion would see of Handsome Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Heroes always get remembered, but you know legends never die._


	2. Vault Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter from stage-left: Rhys, code monkey.
> 
> No one is really surprised that Vasquez doesn't know what a reply-all button is. It has, however, presented Rhys & co. with a very interesting opportunity.

Hyperion: one of the biggest names in tech, a leader in AI and advanced robotics research, revolutionaries in the industry right from the start.  They created the modern personal computer and couldn’t be content to stop there.  The unveiling of the hyPod permanently altered how people consumed music.  And then the hyPhone, an entire computer condensed to fit in the palm of one’s hand.  These days, the Homeperion system was becoming more and more common, entire abodes synced to a set of sleek, conspicuously-branded devices.  It was a company rich with history and prestige, and Rhys had hardly read the offer letter before accepting the job.  The day after graduation, he packed his best vintage snakeskin boots and headed up the coast to San Francisco, ready to work for the entity that had haunted his dreams since high school.

In hindsight, Rhys _really_ should have read that letter better.  He’d pictured frosted-glass offices, spectacular city views, casual chats about the latest design prototypes over coffee machines that knew his order just from his thumbprint.  Instead, he got a cubicle so narrow he could reach from one side to the other without fully extending his elbows, a boss who spent more time tormenting subordinates than doing his job, and hours upon hours debugging and trying (fruitlessly, in Rhys’s opinion) to improve Hyperion’s infamous Claptrap search engine.  And don’t get him started on the _monstrosity_ in the break room that his co-workers called a “coffee maker”.  Sludge dispenser was more like it.  Rhys made sure to always make his own latte before he came in, and if he ever needed a refill, the walk down the street to a decent coffeeshop was always more than worth the loss of “productive” time.

He was halfway through his second cup when an alert appeared on his desktop.  Another email from his Boss From Hell.  Rhys tapped “open” only because his eyes were starting to cross from the endless stream of code his current project called for.  He crossed his fingers, hoping this wasn’t another ridiculous request to “make it run snappier” or some other bullshit—the last time that happened, they had been stuck revising for nearly a week until finally settling on something not much different from what Rhys had first presented.  The message was short, though, barely a paragraph—not the most promising, but enough to have hope.  Rhys looked it over, coffee perched at his lips in preparation for another sip.

 

> Re: ‘Paw’lease Read Me :3
> 
> Henderson,
> 
>  
> 
> Glad to see you continue to use company time to send us motivational pictures of cats.  Honestly, your obsession with them is a little concerning.  Guess we won’t have to worry about that much longer, though, because I’ll have your job soon.  Two words: Vault.  Key.
> 
>  
> 
> Suck it,
> 
> Hugo Vasquez  
>  Chief Assistant Vice Director of Software Engineering, Claptrap Algorithmic Deployment  
>  (Soon to be Director of Software Engineering, Claptrap Algorithmic Deployment)

 

Thank whatever higher power there was that Rhys hadn’t taken that sip; otherwise, he’d be in need of a new visual display modulator.  He scrolled up the thread to see Henderson’s weekly cat meme email, sent out to all of his subordinates.  Vasquez’s apparent lack of understanding of the reply-all function hardly came as a surprise.  Rhys quickly took a screenshot of the message (no doubt the original email would be wiped from the servers once Vasquez noticed his mistake) and returned to work. Vasquez had required… what, 200 lines of code on this project? Rhys had 50, putting him a good 150 lines short.  With such a long day to look forward to, it only took a few minutes for him to return to cross-eyed, glazed over, mindless repetition. Still, in the back of his mind, two words repeated themselves, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.  Vault.  Key.

 

Lunch couldn’t come soon enough, and yet the universe conspired to delay it.  “ _Rhys_!  Just the man I wanted to see.  Walk with me?”  Vasquez’s arm settled over his shoulders, bringing with it the headache-inducing stench of far too much Axe body spray.

Rhys’s boss Vasquez, a shiny cheap man in a shiny cheap suit, gave outdated terms like “nemesis” new meaning. The two had butted heads since Rhys’s first assignment at Hyperion; sure Rhys had completed the task in half the allotted time, but his solution just hadn’t been _snappy_ enough. Nobody knew where Vasquez had been before Hyperion, but Rhys strongly suspected it wasn’t anywhere with a halfway decent computer science program. The man had the coding proficiency, and personality, of a clump of wet newspaper. Still, this corporate scumbag was smart enough to know when someone threatened the advancement of his career.  Which was why Rhys always seemed to have the _sincere pleasure_ of spending time with the man who single-handedly kept the crappy hair gel industry afloat (honestly, it was like he _tried_ to find the most pungent, shiniest product available).

_I don’t have much of a choice, do I?_  Rhys bit back his reply and just nodded.  He flashed Vasquez a smile gleaming with insincerity.  “Of course.”  Most of the cubes sat empty, only a few poor souls having to work through lunch.  One of them exchanged sympathetic glances with Rhys as he passed by.

“I noticed you got my... email, this morning.  Those new read-receipts are quite the useful tool.”  Rhys suppressed an eyeroll.  It seems that “new” had become an acceptable term for technology that had been available at least since Rhys was born.  “I wanted to touch base with you… you know, make sure we were on the same page.”

“Same page?” Rhys made every attempt to keep his expression blank, innocent.  It… was not successful, if Vasquez’s narrowed eyes were anything to go by.

“The email you received... was blank.  Sent prematurely.” Vasquez searched Rhys’s eyes intensely before continuing. “It’d be a _darn_ shame if you got... demoted, just for spreading rumors about decryption keys.”  Rhys looked away, but nodded.  Vasquez’s threats were rarely empty, and besides, there was no reason to show his hand just yet.

“Blank.  Yeah.  Never saw a thing.  What email?” he laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair.  Fumbling aside, the response was enough to satisfy Vasquez.

“Precisely.  I’ll see you around, Rhys.”  Vasquez’s clammy hand squeezed Rhys’s shoulder one last time, then slipped away.  The automatic doors ahead of Rhys slid open, and he ducked out, grateful for a deep breath of air that didn’t reek like a middle school locker room.  It was exhaled as a sigh of relief when he saw his best friend waiting in the hall.

Vaughn, as he had since the two first met in second grade, looked like a reedy, sarcastic nerd.  Which was good, considering that’s exactly what he was. Little had changed since the early days. His knack for getting Rhys out of trouble remained intact. Sure, Vaughn had acquired an accounting degree, a high-paying job at Hyperion a floor below his best friend, and the nicest hyGlasses money could buy… but otherwise, he was still the same short boy that Rhys had first defended from bullies at recess.

Their friendship was one of the only consistent things in Rhys’s life. Vaughn was his truest bro.  The chocolate to his peanut butter.

But, like, in a totally platonic, not-dating-at-all way.  Never mind that toga party sophomore year--that was in the past now.

“Vasquez?” Vaughn asked.  Rhys didn’t really have to answer; Vaughn just shook his head and fell into step beside him.  “One of these days, we gotta get back at him.  Just really let him have it, y’know?  He’s gotta learn that you don’t get anywhere in life by being a dick to everyone.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow toward his friend. “Actually…” he murmured,  “I might have an idea of how we can do that.”  Vaughn waited until they had turned down the hall for requisitions before sending Rhys a sidelong glance.

“...well?”  
  
“It…  might be illegal.” To Vaughn’s credit, if this new development came as a surprise, he didn’t show it.

As they rounded another corner, the two were met with the third member of their golden trio: Yvette.

If Vaughn was chocolate, and Rhys was peanut butter, then Yvette was the caramel to their well-established duo. The woman was smooth and easy-going, but more than a little intimidating.  A viper in an orange pencil skirt. She’d been the one to show Rhys around his first day on the job _._ Though he knew there were rumours that she’d blackmailed her way to her cushy position, he appreciated her wit and her friendship.

Yvette looked none too pleased. “What might be illegal?” She cut in. Despite their questionable attempts at secrecy, she had definitely overheard their conversation as they approached. If Rhys didn’t know for a fact that Yvette was on their side, he would be terrified by her tone.

“Rhys has an idea to get back at Ass-quez.” said Vaughn cheerily.

“Your shithead boss?” Yvette paused a moment, before pulling her signature snakelike grin.  “I’m game.”

“Best not to talk about it here,” Rhys admitted, running his hand through his hair.  “Come to think of it, I, uh, actually have some friends who could help us.  I think it’s time I introduced you to them.”

“Right now?” Yvette checked her watch, as if they didn’t all have the same hour-long unpaid break.

Rhys blinked. “I’ll... buy you lunch?”

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love and kudos so far! It's great to see people as excited as we are about this au <3
> 
> Cheers,  
> Kindred & Introvert


	3. Corporate Larceny For Fun And Profit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the best friendships begin with coffee, sandwiches, and humor at Rhys's expense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you so much to PhoenixTakaramono, Sci, and the lovely anon for your lovely comments!!! It really means a lot to us to hear from our readers <3
> 
> Also, sorry it took so long to get this update out! Hope you enjoy~!
> 
> -Kindred & Introvert

An unobtrusive shape in the shadow of the Financial District’s sleek spires, the Gortys Cafe gave the impression of a building-size dust bunny that some celestial vacuum had missed in its rounds. The interior was the same, but warmer. The bell that jingled when Rhys, Vaughn, and Yvette entered was about the only portion of the original building that still worked.

“Hey, Sasha.” Rhys nodded to the barista before him, who wore a bandana rather than the standard-issue hairnet to hold her dreadlocks back. “Three of your famous grilled cheeses, and, um, the usual for me?  And, er…”   He glanced back at Yvette, who just shrugged. “Iced latte, then, for my cold-hearted friend here.”

“And I’ll have a vanilla chai latte,” Vaughn cut in. “Uh, do you guys have soy milk?”

“Yeah, sure.” Sasha smiled warmly at the strangers. She grabbed a few mugs and, opening the small refrigerator beside her with a creak, reached for a gallon of milk. It had been a long time since Yvette had glimpsed a beverage-mixing setup so archaic. “Friends of yours, Rhys?”

“Yeah, actually, I was hoping to introduce you all. Ah, maybe if you get a minute, we could sit and talk?”

Sasha raised an eyebrow. “Rhys. You literally just ordered three coffees. And food.”

“Right, yeah, sorry about that.” Rhys smiled sheepishly. His two coworkers fidgeted behind him.

Yvette nudged Vaughn, motioning to the menu above the bar. Scrawled items and prices were barely visible in the room’s hazy light. “Prices like these, they’re practically con artists.” Vaughn nodded, though his financial expertise told him that with a city as expensive as San Francisco, this was as cheap as quality could get.

Rhys scratched the back of his head, peering over Sasha’s shoulder. “Um, is Fi around, too?”

Before Sasha could reply, there came a sudden voice from behind them: “I told you to cut it out with the nicknames, Hyperion.” The corporate crew turned to encounter a shady woman with a white leather jacket and a confident smile.

“Fiona!”  Rhys squeaked, alternating between excitement to see a friend and bone-chilling terror because _holy shit Fiona was good at sneaking up on people_. Though intimidated at first by the fancy-hatted grifter, Vaughn was relieved to see a softness in her eyes. Yvette remained unimpressed.

“I see you brought company. About damn time I got to put faces to these names. I’m Fiona.”  Her offered hand lingered almost a beat too long.

“Yvette.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard about you. Rhys told me you once ‘requisitioned’ your boss’s credit card after he spilled coffee on your new suit. I’m a fan.”  She turned to the other stranger, who had fixed her with the sheepiest grin known to man. “So then you’re Vaughn, right?  The…  ‘bro-est of bros to ever bro’, I believe is how Rhys put it. Nice to meet you, I guess. Bro.”

“Felix, can you watch the counter for a few minutes?” Sasha called, charging the coffees and sandwiches to Rhys’s tab before carrying the tray to one of the less wobbly tables. A grey-haired barista, looking only slightly peeved, rushed forward from the back. “I’ll only be a few minutes!  Promise!”

“Rhys, what even _is_ your usual?” Vaughn asked as the five crammed around the small table. “Like, is that coffee, or an ice cream sundae?”

“It’s a salted caramel mocha frappe with extra whipped cream and a caramel drizzle, thank you very much,” said Rhys, placing a hand over his heart as if physically wounded by such harsh words.

“Right. Of course. And you say your metabolism is the reason you’re not in better shape.”

“I can’t believe of all the things for you nerds to argue about, it’s who’s more ‘fit’,” Sasha smirked.

“Why’s that?  You looking for tickets to the gunshow?  Ba-bam!”  Vaughn’s flexing, though impressive, was met only with a blank, vaguely concerned look.

“Try the bulletin board next time, Vaughn.” Yvette said, used to the money man’s antics. “At least it’d give you a phone number.”  She winked conspiratorially at Sasha, gaining a laugh from the barista.

“ _Anyway_ , Rhys,” Fiona cut in, “I’m assuming there’s a reason you’ve assembled us all here?”

“Ah, yes, right.” Rhys drummed his fingers hesitantly on the table. Lunch before him, surrounded by three of his closest friends as well as Fiona, he was suddenly struck with uncertainty over the idea that had been pickling in his brain. Though he was known for the occasional outlandish plan, outright corporate larceny was a bit beyond his scope.

Then again, backing down once he’d identified an opportunity to exploit was also a bit beyond his scope.

“So here’s the deal,” he began, matching the impatient eyes of his friends. “Vasquez--” He saw Sasha open her mouth, confused, and added, “Yes, there is a V in his name.”

“But you always call him--”

“Assquez, I know, I know, it’s because he’s an ass!   _Anyway_ , as I was saying, Vasquez sent out an email this morning that was supposed to only go to Henderson,”

“The boss’s boss,” Vaughn supplied helpfully.

“Right, exactly. And it was basically the same-old Vasquez bullshit, except!”  Rhys motioned for everyone to lean in close (difficult in the tight space) before he whispered, “Vasquez thinks he’s found a way to get his hands on a Vault key.”

As far as dramatic reveals go, this one was pretty… flat. Rhys could almost see the point whizzing above everyone’s heads, straight through the dusty rafters of the cafe.

“What vault?” said Fiona. “Is there something valuable in it?”

“It’s not a question of what, it’s a question of who,” Rhys corrected. “And it’s not a physical key. We’re talking _securities decryption_. The kind of corporate espionage that would take a peon like Vasquez--or me--straight to the top.”

“You’re talking about a way to hack into Vault. As in, Hyperion’s biggest competitor, Vault?”  Yvette let out a low whistle. “Rumor has it Handsome Jack’s been after something like that ever since the break-in five years back.”

“Ugh,” Vaughn groaned, “ _don’t_ remind me of that break-in. After that, Handsome Jack apparently hired all sorts of shady security staff and it is a _nightmare_ to deal with during audit season.”

“Wait, so what does this have to do with us? Can’t you nerds just,” Fiona scrambled for words, “do your wacky-hacky shit and get that key?”

“Not that simple. When Vasquez shuts down his computer at the end of the day, it disconnects from the network, so I wouldn’t be able to remotely access anything outside of work hours. And with the security software he’s got, I can’t get to anything during the day without him noticing. _But_ ,”  Rhys paused for dramatic emphasis. “He uses an external hard drive to back up anything important, and he keeps it locked in his desk. Something about ‘not wanting any of his lovers to try to steal company secrets’. So, we break in, get the hard drive, and then…”

There was a brief pause; the others realized Rhys wanted them to finish the statement. It didn’t go entirely as he’d planned.

Vaughn sighed. “...We get the key.”

“Exactly!  And he’s probably got some security on that hard drive, which I _may_ need help breaking.”  Rhys flashed a grin at Sasha. “Ready to put that tutoring to the test?”

* * *

Rhys had first met Sasha during the Great Hyperion WiFi Catastrophe of 2119. While his co-workers scurried around turning things off and back on again, Rhys had gone searching (in the rain, he might add) for anywhere with free WiFi and a good latte. Gortys may have been old-fashioned to a degree, but that allowed it to still function during an outage that had seemingly bombed half the city. Surprisingly few patrons were willing to duck out of the violent torrents of rainfall (which Rhys had  _walked through_ because he was _that dedicated_ to Hyperion) into a dank entryway, so it was still a slow day for Sasha. Rhys had only finished half his frappe before he was joined by the dreadlocked barista. “You get kicked outta the office because you’re a mediocre programmer?”

“Wha--I am a _highly qualified_ programmer, doing _very important work_ for Hyperion, thank you very much!” Rhys fussed.

“Oh yeah?  Show me, then.”  A few hours later, Rhys had found himself with a tutoring job and two new allies in a city of sharks.

* * *

 

Sasha had been listening quietly to the entire plan, curiosity sparkling across her face. Now her eyes narrowed playfully. “You sure we should work together?  I’ve heard it gets messy when the student surpasses the master.”

Yvette laughed and grinned at Sasha across the table. “I wanna be on her team for this mission.”

Rhys pouted, somewhere between mock-offended and genuinely hurt. The others joined Yvette in laughing.

“Ok, so, logistics.” Vaughn, said, ready to get down to business now that everyone seemed willing to take on Rhys’s crazy idea. “Hacking the hard drive is all well and good, but you seem to have forgotten that we need to break into Hyperion? The most paranoid corporation on the west coast?”

Fiona seemed to have expected this question. “Don’t worry, short-circuit. That’s where I come in. I know a guy who can get us maps of the sewers; that’ll be the easiest way avoid all the alarmed doors and windows. And I can bootleg some ID cards so there’s no record of you entering offices after hours, give you some lockpicks for that desk, probably get my hands on some short-range disposable coms on a back network...”

Yvette and Vaughn gaped at Fiona.

“You, uh, seem to have given this some thought,” Vaughn attempted tactfully.

The two sisters shared a look; Fiona crossed her arms with a smirk. Sasha shook her head, incredulous. “Did Rhys seriously not tell you _anything_ about my sister and me?” Then she laughed. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised; this is the guy who would forget his own tie if it wasn’t tucked into his pants.”

Rhys spoke up before the group could reprise their laughter at his expense. “So I take it you guys are all on board with the plan then?” His attempt to mask his inner exuberance with an exaggerated deadpan wasn’t very effective. The corners of his mouth threatened to twitch into a smile.

“Rhys,” said Yvette, “You’re probably going to get us shot-”

“Or worse,” Vaughn added helpfully, “ _fired_.”

“-but hell, if Vasquez gets that promotion, that’s bad for all of us.”

Sasha smiled. “And you _know_ Fiona and I are always game for screwing over those Hyperion scumbags.”

Rhys cleared his throat.

“Except, you know. You guys.” She added hastily.

Despite the tension, Yvette and Vaughn chuckled, no strangers to Hyperion hate themselves. A companionable silence fell over the crew. Each individual collapsed into a different reverie…

Fiona, arms closed around an untouched mug of drip coffee, tallying the ways this heist could go wrong. Planning a list of common thievery beginners’ mistakes. Wondering idly if she needed to pick up ammo for her pistol on the way back from Gortys.

Sasha, full of excitement over her first opportunity to test those newfound programming skills- someday she’d be the hacker to her sister’s firepower. Still bristling from her last matcha blended, and eagerly anticipating her next.

Yvette, wondering where she could stretch the situation to her advantage. Delighted to make the acquaintance of someone smarter than the average cheese-headed corporate stooge. The ice between her and her new partners was melting like the cubes in her half-finished latte.

Vaughn, fretting that he and his friends would get caught, that all the questionable decisions they’d made up until now would be for nothing. Also, a little concerned that this vanilla syrup might have too much sweetener in it, but afraid to correct Sasha on her craft.

...and Rhys, already finished with his sugary abomination of a coffee and longingly eyeing the espresso machine behind the counter. Thinking back to the _totally official and Hyperion-issued and definitely not purchased online_ Handsome Jack posters that surrounded his workspace. Soon he’d be walking in his idol’s footsteps. Hell, maybe this Vault key deal would earn him an audience with the man himself.

“I think our lunch break is almost over,” Yvette spoke, and the quiet spell was broken. She nodded briskly to Rhys. “Thanks for the free food. We should be getting back to corporate hell.”

And back to corporate hell they went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're probably wondering "what ever happened to that handsome man in the first chapter? Is he ok? When's he coming back?" Soon, friends. Soon...
> 
> https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/71/f5/c8/71f5c8b523cd3f6403e7a3fda937db9e.jpg


End file.
